


Empty Handed

by badboy_fangirl



Series: The Broken Ones Series [1]
Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-18 00:38:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1408522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badboy_fangirl/pseuds/badboy_fangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Daryl goes through some pretty heavy shit, he gets reunited with Beth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It won't be so much the action of what he goes through as the mental anguish. It picks up with that all-night run at the end of "Alone," but will contain spoilers for all of S4. Title and open verses lifted from Lea Michele's song "Empty Handed." This part is more of a prologue than anything else.
> 
>  
> 
> [](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/americanoutlaw/media/Walking%20Dead/Bethyloh_zpscad242d2.png.html)  
> 

_I will be your compass, I will only let you bend_

He knows he was an idiot to relax for even one second. To let her convince him of something that only exists (existed?) in her slight body, the one he hefted around their sanctuary without breaking a sweat, even if he teased her about being dead weight just so she'd punch his shoulder and roll her eyes. 

(Just so he could put his hands on her.)

He'd lived with her for nearly two years, but it's the not-quite-a-week of them being on their own together that transforms his life into two parts. 

Before Beth mattered like air.

And _after_.

 

He runs for miles, pushing his body beyond any level of endurance he's ever had. His gut clenches, pigs' feet and peanut butter wanting to make its way back up his throat, but he burns it all off before it can. 

He also relives every moment they spent together in the flashes of daylight peeking up over the horizon, her voice echoing in the vacuum of his mind.

_I need a drink._

_I'm not staying in this suck-ass camp!_

_It_ does _matter._

_All I wanted to do all day was lay down and cry, but we don't get to do that._

_If we're gonna be trapped again, we might as well make the best of it. Unless you're too busy chaperoning, Mr. Dixon._

He sees her face, the ridiculousness of her middle finger, dainty but aggressive somehow, so not _Beth_ , at least in his mind up to that point.

He quickly realized just how much he'd underestimated her.

He only hopes now that his stupidity will shock them both. That her ability to survive will reach back to wherever he is, that her gift of hope extends limitlessly.

She will turn up again, shocking him, surprising him, filling him with something he didn't even know he could feel.

 

 

By the time he can't run any more, her words seem to be chasing each other through his mind.

_I know you look at me and just see another dead girl!_

_You don't get to treat me like crap just because you're...afraid!_

_Screw you, you don't get it!_

(His name.)

She said, _Daryl! Daryl. Daryl._ She hugged him, wrapping him up tight, holding on to him, keeping him from falling all apart.

(Making it possible _to_ fall apart.)

He'd been an ass, saying things he didn't even really think, just to hurt her, just to push her away, but she grabbed a hold of him, and wouldn't let go. She held him while he cried.

She made it okay to lose his shit, and then gather it back up again.

 

 

He sits on the cold hard ground, his legs like dead rubber beneath him, but feels the wood plank behind his back, supporting him, keeping him looking into her face as she talked.

_Some people can be real jerks when they drink._

_You got away from it._

_You're gonna be the last man standing._

_You're gonna miss me so bad when I'm gone, Daryl Dixon._

He's not sure if it's worse not knowing where she is. If he'd watched a Walker rip her to pieces, he'd have had the moment to kill something to avenge her, and then set her free from the pain. 

The enormous pressure in his chest can't be relieved, not now. There's no one left to hold him up, to remind him.

_You gotta stay who you are, not who you were._

She woulda never even looked twice at him in the old world (and maybe even in the new world if he weren't the only one to look at). She sure as hell wouldn't have pep-talked him; she wouldn't have gazed at him with her old-soul eyes one minute, and turned on a dime, a crazy little gleam coming into them.

_We should burn it down._

He chokes on a sob. It's only the sound of approaching footsteps that drags his thoughts away for a while. A life-threatening distraction, one he's not sure he wants to avoid.

(Beth would so kick his ass for that thought.)

 

 

_There's still good people, Daryl._

He trails behind Joe and his merry band of thugs. If she were here now, he might say, _They were all at the prison with us. Now, they're all gone. There's just you and..._

There's just _you._

 

Sleep is elusive, but he's good at faking it, especially when him and Joe's guys find an old warehouse. Soon, there are snores echoing off the walls around him, but he hears a symphony of other sounds.

_Don't you think that's beautiful?_

_I thought my singing annoyed you?_

_I'm gonna leave a thank you note._

Laying there, wishing for moonshine to take away the pain of it all, he tries to come up with responses. Things he shoulda said to her. 

It all sounds like bullshit, even in his head, and it all boils down to the final conversation they had. The one where he uttered the words _you know_ (except she hadn't; she didn't get it, because she didn't know what a rare creature she was), then he mumbled something like _idunno_ that she made fun of, kinda, and then he hadn't been able to say a word, and she'd figured it out anyway.

Which was really the truth of it all; she understood a fuckton of stuff about him without him ever having to say a word. 

He probably never would say all the things, even if he had the chance. What he really figures out, though, laying on the hard concrete floor, is that he wishes he had it, anyway. He doesn't deserve it, but he longs for it, in the pit of his stomach. 

An opportunity. A way to find his voice. A way to express everything she gave him in such a short amount of time, without even trying.

_Oh._

Yeah, that.

That, and so much more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/americanoutlaw/media/Walking%20Dead/bethylhandholding_zps4644255d.gif.html)   
> 

_All I've ever known is how to hide a secret  
But I'm tired of going on without believing ___

Mostly, following Rick or Abraham's lead is what gets him through it. When they finally escape Terminus, when they're back on the road, and headed for D.C., because _why the hell not?_ all he can think about is the _I Never_ game. 

He leaves Georgia, for the first time, when he is 34 years old, and after he's been to hell and back. He's also come to the conclusion that no matter what he does from now on, there'll just be this gaping hole in his heart where she ought to be.

He even bargained with the Universe on that first night, when they were free again. Laying on the ground with nothing but starlight overhead, he made a vow to any power that might be listening that if he could just find Beth and know she was alive, that was all he needed. He didn't need her to be his girl, or even to think too fondly of him. He didn't need her to hold his hand, or keep trying to convince him that the way she saw the world was the better way to think, or even sing him songs that soothed him even while they riled him up.

All he needed was for her to be alive, and safe, and happy. 

Maggie had, of course, eventually asked, and he told them all a condensed version of what had happened while he was with Beth. Sitting in a dark train car, unable to see anyone's eyes had made it easier, and they deserved to know. How Beth had saved him from himself, how Beth had been Hershel's daughter in every sense of the word, how Beth had survived on her own merit.

On the road north, sometimes on foot, sometimes in vehicles when they ran across some with gas, Daryl made note of each state they crossed into. Tennessee, Kentucky, Virginia. He doesn't know why it matters, why these are the things he's tucking into his back pocket, like if he ever gets lucky enough to see her again, what he'll say to her is, _I've walked through Tennessee, Beth!_ and she'll giggle and take a swig, just for old times' sake.

Like they have "old times'" because of that stuff.

He's just fucked in the head now is all. This makes that time he hallucinated that Merle was in the woods behind Hershel's farm seem downright reasonable.

The day they cross into Virginia, they're in cars. It ends up just being him and Glenn in a pick-up truck while the rest of their group follows behind in two mini-vans and a Prius. ( _A fucking Prius_ , that had a nearly full gas tank, so it would end up going further than any of the cars they had.) The truck's engine is loud, but Glenn just shouts over it, talking about what, if anything, they'll find in D.C. and how he went on vacation there once when he was twelve. Daryl nods his head, but can't think of any questions to ask. He knows what the city looks like, he used to watch TV after all, but he never gave it much thought one way or another. 

It's all crazy Eugene's (mental, know-it-all fucker) idea that there will still be some form of civilization there, even though they haven't seen a living person for 800 miles, but they have killed plenty of Walkers.

Daryl's just going where his family's going, still secretly bargaining with the Universe for Beth's safe return. 

(He doesn't believe anything more than he ever did. She would be so disappointed.)

"Hey, man, can I ask you a question?" Glenn says, drawing Daryl's attention from the passing trees. 

He looks over at his friend, his other brother, the only Asian guy he's ever known or spoken to in his entire existence, and nods his head. Once in a while Glenn wanted some philosophical discussion so he'd ask a question like, _do you think it's wrong to bring children into this kind of world?_ and Daryl has to actually consider something he's never thought about, in any world. For the most part, they were short conversations.

"You...and Beth," Glenn says, his voice pitched very loud to come over the sound of the engine. "You, seem. I don't know, like, different since then."

Daryl's not sure what that means, so he deflects. Because he doesn't know, anyway. There's nothing _to_ know, not with a gone girl. "You mean, I'm different since we lost the prison? Or since I lost Beth? Or since we got held hostage at a chicken factory and barely escaped with our lives? How'm I different, Glenn?" He sounds bitter, even to himself.

(He _is_ fucking bitter.)

Glenn's gaze slides across the seat, but then skids away, and that makes Daryl feel worse. He's been carrying guilt that he hasn't had time to think about, but now, hours on the road and nothing but wide open spaces with periodic Walker-killing intervals leave him plenty of room to stew.

"Well," Glenn drawls with a mocking lilt to his raised voice. "You've gone back to Asshole Daryl who didn't know the difference between Chinese and Korean. You seem really angry, all the time. You just don't talk about it, like how you used to be in everyone's face, or trying to beat their heads in. But it's still pretty obvious."

Daryl glares at him across the seat. "Did you miss the part where _I lost Beth?_ " he growls.

"That wasn't your fault," Glenn says.

"Right. _Whose_ fault is it?"

"Daryl--"

"No. Just shut up. I don't need a pep talk. I don't need anyone trying to make me feel better. It doesn't help, it just reminds me that there was one time, when a ray of light broke through, and I fucking ruined it."

The rumble of the engine is the only sound after that, for a long time, and Daryl unhappily goes back to staring out the window.

Abraham passes them when they find a clear spot without a lot of slowly rotting cars; in fact, Daryl starts to notice that the places where there are cars alongside the road, they are _alongside_ the road, pushed off the main drag. 

Like someone moved them. 

Abraham signals with his hazard lights and then drives off the pavement, causing Glenn to follow as well as the other two vehicles further behind them. 

Glenn kills the engine, and Daryl reaches for the handle, pushing open the door with a groaning creak. Glenn's voice is hushed now, infinitely quiet when he says, "If she's still alive somewhere, _that's_ your fault. Because you helped her get strong enough to survive."

Daryl's hand clenches on the cool metal under his fingers. "No," he says as he slides out of the truck. "That's why I'm still here, because _she_ helped _me_. That's the _only_ reason I'm still here. Because I owe her."

He slams the truck door hard, and doesn't look back. It's time to track some supper.

 

 

_Peach Schnapps. Is it good?_

He usually wakes up because he can hear her voice. He sleeps away from the group, some twenty feet or so, just because he knows he'll come to with a gasp and they can't help but ask if he's okay.

He's not fucking okay, and he probably won't ever be, and there's just no point in talking about it.

When they escaped from Terminus, they'd gone for the bag of guns Rick had buried, and Daryl had forgotten that he'd stuck Beth's bag in there, too. It was the only thing he had ever put any sentimental value on, and Rick hadn't questioned him when he shoved it inside. He had also handed it back to him the day they got out without a word.

Sometimes he pulls the stuff out and looks at it. A notebook with blank pages. A jar of grape jelly. Some girl stuff she must've found in one of the bathrooms they looted. Chapstick. Tampons. Wetwipes. A pen. 

There's one other thing in there that he pulls out every day and rubs between his thumb and forefinger. He's not sure if it's because he thinks it's some kinda good luck or something, but he hadn't found it in the bottom of her bag until they'd already decided to come north.

Until D.C. had been their chosen destination. Then he found a spoon in what he thought was an empty zipper pocket in her bag. The spoon had the White House engraven on it as well as the words _Washington, D.C._

Daryl doesn't believe in signs, but, you know, if he did, this would probably be one.

(Right?)

He almost showed it to Maggie one day when he heard her telling Glenn a story about Beth from their childhood, but he couldn't quite bring himself to share it. It probably wouldn't amount to anything, so only he could be disappointed when it didn't.

No point in dragging anyone else into it.

The sun's first rays are breaking through as he rubs his thumb over the ridges on the dip of the spoon. He closes his eyes and tries to fall back to sleep, tries to let her voice be a lullaby.

He can't recall the song though, just her words. Her words don't bring any peace.

_I remember. When that little girl came out of the barn. After my mom. You were like me. And now God forbid you ever let anyone get too close._

 

 

The closer they get to D.C., the more obvious it is that civilization does still exist. In fact, it looks like the nation's capital had been preserved and protected. Walls have been erected, reminding Daryl of Woodbury, but it's Abraham who points out, "If there was any place to be protected, it would have been here. The President. The Constitution. Our origins. It's all there."

Then he slaps Eugene's back and shouts, "Mission accomplished!"

Daryl and Rick exchange cynical glances, but continue forward. A sign tells them that Washington is still fifteen miles ahead.

Fifteen miles worth of walls? And nothing but National Guard had come through Georgia, most of them killing anything that moved, Walker or not? Rick had only heard the horror stories, of course, because he'd been in a coma, but Daryl had his own first hand experiences. He and Merle had just been too slippery to get caught up in it.

After everything, Daryl can imagine them getting to the gates, wherever they might be, and dropping Eugene, Abraham, and Rosita off while the rest of them did God knows what. Maybe they'll just keep driving to Canada (or what once had been Canada); he just can't imagine that they'll willingly walk inside walls that high. 

They might never come out, and none of them choose that type of death. He knows they're all choosing something, but that seems the least popular.

When they do get to the gates, wrought iron with plenty of space between them, allowing them to see inside, Abraham and Rick get out of their cars and approach the guards on the other side.

Daryl and Glenn sit tensely in their truck, its engine rumbling even louder somehow. When Rick comes back to tell them what's happening, the relief on his face makes Daryl's stomach coil tightly. "They said they've slowly been rebuilding. There is a check-in point a mile or two up the road, and facilities with running water and electricity. They managed to keep about a 100 square miles blocked off."

"What about Walkers inside?" Daryl asks.

"They have a task force assigned to monitor any who die, as well as anyone who might turn before someone realizes they've died."

"Can we leave if we want?" Glenn asks.

"Yes. They want us to come in a get registered--they're basically trying to account for all people who haven't died or turned, but it's up to us."

Daryl doesn't buy it, so he just says, "Terminus."

"No, Daryl," Rick quickly argues. "It's not. It's really not. Abe's going in with or without us. I think we should go in. I do," he says when Daryl's expression remains skeptical.

"This'll sound crazy, I know," Glenn says, and Daryl turns his head to look at him. "But I've had this good feeling about it, all along, ever since I found Maggie. My dad was born in D.C. It's like it's a sign, you guys. Going back to my roots. He left after he graduated high school, because the crime was really bad and everything, but what if? What if this is a fresh start?"

Daryl takes a deep breath, the imprint of the White House phantomly dancing across his fingertips. Maybe Beth is dead, gone to wherever Hershel is, and maybe this is what she's doing now. Being a Guardian Angel, guiding them where they need to go.

Beth would be really good at a job like that. She'd be all beautiful and shit, and it hurts his heart to even think of it, but it's a fleshed out fantasy that pops behind his closed lids.

When he opens his eyes again and looks at both Glenn and Rick, he's made up his mind.

They're going to Washington.

 

 

They get ushered to a public building where everyone is supposed to go when they first arrive. They walk inside and see a few people milling around, some standing in lines designated by the alphabet. Signs read _A-D Line Up Here and E-H Line Up Here_ with arrows pointing down to windows where people stand behind counters typing information into computers. It goes all the way down one long wall to _U-Z_ which has nobody in line.

_What changed your mind?_

It feels normal. It's a distant and vague memory for Daryl, but he can remember going to the Health Department with his mother when he was a kid, getting shots for school, and then later, going by himself when he'd been bit by a dog and one of his teachers had told him he ought to get a tetanus and a rabies shot. His daddy woulda never said that to him, woulda probably been glad if he died of some crazy infection so he wouldn't have to feed him anymore, but Daryl survived then, just like he's survived now. 

He's standing in the "A-D" section, waiting to give his name and whatever else they want when Maggie gets up to the window in the next line over. "Greene," she says. "G-R-E-E-N-E. Margaret Victoria Greene." She pauses, and he hears a soft sound precede her question. "Is there a way to look for other people? I mean, I have a sister -- if she were here, her name might be in your system, right?"

He can't hear the lady on the other side of the window, but he sees her nod, and her lips move. "Yes," Maggie says. "Same last name. Katherine Elizabeth. She goes by Be--"

There is a scream, something that causes all the people in the room to turn towards the sound. It's Maggie's name, but it's something else, entirely. It's primal, and terrifying, but Daryl welcomes it because it feels like it's the first time in months that his heart has actually beat against his breastbone for any reason other than fear.

Beth steps out of a door on the far end of the bank of windows, just past the "U-Z" sign. She's wearing weird clothes, something Daryl can't quite process because she looks so much older in the white blouse and black slacks, but she leans down to rip the high heels she's wearing off her feet, tossing them violently aside. Then she runs towards her sister, the way they had once run from the prison, as fast and as hard as they could.

He wants to call out to her, to caution her to slow down, because she's going to knock Maggie over when she gets to her, but it all happens too fast for any real words to be uttered. Maggie starts to move just about the time that Glenn reaches out a hand as Beth flies past the "Q-T" section where he's standing. The girls meet in the middle somewhere, laughing and crying, falling to the floor in a heap, and everyone just stands there, watching it happen.

Slowly, the rest of their group eases over to the sisters. Glenn first, but Sasha and Bob, Carl and Michonne. Rick. Even Tara, who didn't know Beth, but has heard so much about her, tentatively makes her way closer. Daryl's the only one who is frozen in place, who should move, who should be laughing and crying just as much as everyone else.

_What changed your mind?_

Sound ceases to penetrate his ears, and everything seems to slow down, like he's watching the action sequence in some movie from a million years ago when anything like that mattered. Beth is hugging everyone, and everyone is hugging each other, and he sees Rick look around for him. Their eyes meet and Rick motions to Daryl, his mouth opening and words like, "Come here!" coming out, even though he doesn't really hear them. But when Rick yells his name and Beth's head jerks up, her arms around Carl at that particular moment, everything stops. There's no movement at all; no slo-mo, no heartbeats, even. It's just silent and static and blue eyes. 

Then she shoots across the space dividing them, slamming into his chest the way she had into Maggie, but Daryl stays standing. 

His feet remain solid beneath him, the way they always do when it comes to Beth.

_What changed your mind?_

"You," he finally says. "It's you."

Beth's arms are tight, constricting around his neck. "It's me," she whispers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my Bethyl soundtrack for this fic, if any of you are interested:
> 
> "Empty Handed" by Lea Michele  
> "Raging Fire" by Phillip Phillips  
> "Blackbird Song" by Lee DeWyze  
> "Up the Wolves" by The Mountain Goats  
> "Keep Holding On" by Mark Salling and the Glee Cast  
> "I Should Go" by Levi Kreis  
> "Can't You See" by The Marshall Tucker Band


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/americanoutlaw/media/Walking%20Dead/Bethyl_piggybackride_zps90388ad9.jpg.html)   
> 

_If I fell into you, would it be close enough?_

The way she holds on to him feels like she's never gonna let go, and Daryl's pretty sure he's fine with that. It doesn't last long enough, though (possibly, forever wouldn't be long enough, let's be real), because suddenly she stiffens in his arms and spins out of his embrace, back towards everyone else. "Oh, my God! Rick, Carl! Come with me!" And then she's running to them, but her fingers wrap around Daryl's arm so that she's dragging him with her. 

They move in a pack to the door she just came out of, and once they're inside, Beth lets go of him to sprint to a phone sitting on a desk. This room is what is on the other side of the bank of window, and it's just as big as the outer room is, but it's filled with cubicles and people.

It's just like an office would look like, before. Before Walkers took over everything and people stopped working and going to places like this. By the time Daryl stops gaping at what he can't believe he's seeing, Beth is talking excitedly into the phone. "Just get down here, as fast as you can!" she all but shouts. "Bring Judith, and find Tyreese if you can. They're all here, Carol. _All_ of them!" 

Time slows again, but this time it's Daryl turning to Rick to make sure he's still with them. Carl says, "Dad, Dad, did you...?" but Sasha bursts into tears, loud sobs that only get softer when Bob wraps his arm around her neck and presses her face against his chest.

Beth hangs up the phone and looks at all of them. The smile on her face is so radiant, and so big, it seems to leap from her to each of them. She starts rambling about how after she got separated from Daryl she found Carol and Tyreese, and then they'd come across another group of people who'd been heading to D.C. because they'd heard from someone passing through that the city was up and running again. 

"When I was still with Daryl, one of the places we went was this Country Club--remember?" she says, cutting her eyes to him. (Like he could forget.) He nods and she continues, "When we were there, I found this Collector's spoon of the White House. I tucked it into my bag, I don't even know why, I just liked it, and I wanted it, so I took it. So when Gabriel said they were coming here, I just felt like we should. Carol and Tyreese and I talked about it and decided to give it a shot. We've been here for a couple months now, and I put a flag on Maggie's name. If it ever turned up in the system, it was supposed to alert me. And here you are--" She starts crying suddenly, shaking her head, and covering her trembling lips with equally shaking fingers. "I just can't believe it," she says around sobs. "I was so afraid I'd never--"

Daryl doesn't even realize he's moving toward her until Maggie steps in front of him and grabs Beth in a big hug. "Shhhh," Maggie whispers, rocking her sister back and forth, her hand planted in Beth's blonde hair. "It's okay, we're okay," she croons.

"Judith..." Rick says, his voice choked. "Judith is..."

Beth lifts her head, and pulls herself halfway out of Maggie's arms, wiping at her cheeks as she says, "Oh, Rick. She's _so_ beautiful. And healthy. She just started walking last week, and..." 

Daryl turns away because all the tears are contagious. He catches Glenn's eye accidentally as he swings away and the kid reaches out to him, his hand gripping Daryl's upper arm. He doesn't know whether to jerk himself free or accept the gesture, which feels fucking weird, and then the office door bursts open and Carol comes through it with the baby in her arms.

It's seeing Little Asskicker that puts him over. It's just too much all the way around, and maybe if everyone else weren't bawling it wouldn't be so hard to keep it together, but they all are, every single one of them, even Bob. The easiest thing to do is to stop moving, and just sort of fade into the background as Carol hands the baby over to Rick. She hugs Maggie first, and then Carl, slowly making her way to each of them. When she gets to Daryl, there's no way to hide what's going on, but Carol's smile seems to calm him some.

"Hey, you," she says softly, gathering him into a gentle hug. 

He's positive he's never had a better day than this one. It's funny how you only have to lose the whole world as you know it, and think you've lost everyone you ever loved to realize just how very simple life is.

This is all that matters, everything in this room, right here.

 

 

Once they all get their emotions somewhat under control, Beth ends up processing each one of them because she can. This is her job, one she got simply because she had some computer skills from high school and the Internet ( _Mostly the Internet_ , she said, giggling), and while people trickled in on a fairly regular basis as word spread about D.C. being functional, it wasn't like the workload was heavy.

The baby gets passed around, and she happily goes from person to person, though Daryl doesn't think she actually remembers any of them. She's just a happy kid, and everyone's smiles and kisses and tickles please Judith; it's all the attention any baby could ever want or need. It takes about an hour before Tyreese shows up, because it took that long for his boss to locate him; he's on the Task Force, the one that does daily sweeps of every inch of the city, looking for Walkers.

Daryl, for his part, waits patiently for his turn with Beth and talks with Carol while others recite their names, dates of birth, social security numbers, and other pertinent information.

Carol tells him quietly of how she stumbled across Tyreese and the girls, and what happened with Lizzie and Mika. Daryl listens intently, thinking of all he's endured over the last several months, and realizes that they've all been through hell, together first, and then separately, and somehow the Universe saw fit to bring them all back together.

It's more than overwhelming if he lets his mind rest on it at all and the emotion that choked him earlier keeps threatening to reappear. His eyes keep wandering over to Beth as she happily types things into her computer. Her occasional laugh, and general kind manner with everyone reminds him forcefully of their time together; how she just makes light wherever she goes, and he wants to ask her a thousand questions about where she was and what happened, but he can't so he asks Carol, "Where'd y'all find Beth?"

Carol's eyes darken a little and her gaze moves to the girl, too. "It was a week or so after we buried Lizzie and Mika," she says, her tone low as they stand apart from the rest of the group. "She was just wandering through this deep part of the forest, near some railroad tracks. We were headed for a place--there were signs, and we were following them--"

"Terminus?" Daryl all but whispers.

Carol's eyes come back to his. "Yeah. Did you see them too?"

Daryl just nods, not ready or willing to go there just yet. "Beth...wasn't good when we first found her. She was pretty beat up, but she had a knife and she had managed to track some squirrels and even had a dead rattlesnake on her belt. She was surviving, all alone. When she saw us, at first she thought she was hallucinating, but I got her to see we were real, and she let me take care of her. The very next day we met Gabriel and his family--he's a pastor, so Beth took to him right away, kinda reminded her of her daddy, I think. He was on his way here, and invited us to come, so we gave up on the idea of Terminus and followed him."

Daryl can't help but mutter, "Thank _fucking_ God," under his breath, and Carol's eyebrows go up questioningly. 

"Daryl Dixon!" Beth calls out, her voice strong and startling, jerking him away from his conversation with Carol. "It's your turn." She points at the chair next to her desk, and he has another vivid flashback to the _I Never_ game. 

As he sits down, he sees it, just behind her eyes. Maybe he would have missed it without Carol's story, but he likes to think he knows her well enough that he would have caught it without the warning. The one bright thing that has kept him going all these months is the memory of who she is and just how brilliantly she shined, and now, looking at her more closely, he can see that it's dimmed just a touch.

She's beautiful and clean, her hair falling in soft waves down her back; she has a little eye make-up on, and now that he's looking at her intently he gets that that's part of what makes her look older, in addition to her clothes; but beyond that, there is something deep and unsettling in her gaze. Just like Carol's got Lizzie and Mika and Daryl and all them got Terminus, Beth has something, something that changed her forever.

She still smiles, but her eyes don't rest on his as long, or with the same confidence that they had and it suddenly hits him just what Carol must've meant by _pretty beat up_. The surge of rage that races through him makes it real difficult to recite the information she wants. 

Someone, somewhere hurt Beth, and he's gonna fucking kill them.

 

 

It takes time and effort to get them all situated. There are dorm-like houses set up for when people first arrive to give them a place to sleep, get cleaned up, and simply recover some from a world gone mad. Beth takes them all to Housing to get their assignments. 

She hugs everyone again and then skips away, promising to come back to find them all soon, after they've been taken to their rooms. She promises that they'll love Pastor Gabriel and his family, and that they'll have a big dinner in a few hours for everyone.

Daryl doesn't want to go to a dinner, he wants to figure out a way to get Beth alone so he can make sure she's really alright, but as the minutes stretch into hours, he realizes that's not going to be easy at all. Not if he wants to be subtle, which he does, and Beth feels as elusive now that they're together again as she was all the months she haunted his dreams. There had been too many times he'd had her right in his grasp only to wake and find she wasn't there at all, and this feels strangely the same.

After they've showered and been given clean clothes and everything, they are assigned rooms. Rick, Carl, and Judith obviously take up one room; Maggie and Glenn another; Sasha and Bob have paired off, and Tyreese already has permanent housing because of his job, so he just takes them home with him. Carol offers for Michonne to come stay with her and Beth, but only after she first offers it privately to Daryl. He refuses because he can't imagine a more uncomfortable situation, being that close to Beth, but with other people there, too. His first instinct is to be alone again, and luckily for him Eugene gets whisked off to the Science Division immediately, leaving only Abraham and Rosita, who obviously want their privacy. 

He and Tara stand there, sort of shuffling their feet, but then both gratefully accept solo rooms when it's apparent that's what they want, and that's what they can have.

When he shuts the door behind him, and it's just him, a twin bed and a desk in the corner, he sets his bag on the floor and slumps down beside it. He pulls Beth's bag out, intending to take it with him to the dumb dinner they're all gonna attend.

Sitting there, he can't help but think of Atlanta, and the CDC, and Jenner. This feels sort of like that, and he wonders if dinner will be a short-lived reprieve before everything goes to hell again.

Knowing Beth is alive, and there, wounded, but breathing is all it takes to banish the cup-half-empty thoughts. Nothing can be that bad again, long as she's there.

 

 

Dinner is delicious. Sure, it's tedious listening to Rick and Abraham recount some of their journey over the last few months, and Beth and Carol's faces are enough for him to know they're horrified hearing what their friends have been through, but Daryl just sort of tunes out when Pastor Gabriel starts in on God, and the Plan, and all that stuff. 

(If he's gonna listen to shit like that, he can get it recycled through Beth some other time.)

She's sitting across the table from him, and it's a big-ass table, stretching the length of the banquet room they're meeting in. He keeps looking at her, for various reasons, mostly because she's in his line of sight and it's convenient and it's the only place his gaze wants to go; sometimes she's looking back at him, so she throws him a little smile, but most of the time, she's _not_ looking at him, so he starts taking in more details about her. Like how her face is a bit fuller, and so is the rest of her. She gets up from the table a few times to get more water for everyone, and now that she's in jeans and a t-shirt, he can see how she's filled out some. Three squares a day have put more meat on her bones, and Daryl can honestly say it only makes her more appealing, though he tries very hard to _not_ let his mind go that direction.

He knows the way he looks at Beth might not be totally cool, that if Hershel were around he might have a few things to say about it, and Daryl's not even all that sure that he wants to tread that line with or without anyone's approval; but to think he's not aware that she's a woman, or that images he wouldn't want anyone else to ever know he's had in his head of her have been there...well, they'd have to be deaf, dumb, blind, _and_ dead, and Daryl is none of those things.

Beth was always beautiful, but now she's not _just_ beautiful; she's the dream that kept him alive, real and vivid and right in front of his face. And half of his thoughts are filled with worry for her and whatever she's been through, and the rest of them are...other thoughts.

She looks up at him, catching his eye again, and when she smiles this time, her cheeks flush a little. There are 18 people crowded around this table, but really to Daryl, it's just him and Beth in a kitchen, in the dark, and she just uncovered the one thing he doesn't know what to do with.

(Here and now, he might know what to do with it, but that doesn't mean he will.)

The dinner ends, and everyone starts talking about how exhausted they are, and how sleeping in a real bed will be hard to get used to, and how they might throw up because they ate too much and Daryl just wants five minutes with her, but he knows he's not gonna get them. 

It's just not gonna happen. Not tonight.

They all say goodnight with the promise that tomorrow a bunch of things will be decided and straightened out, etc. Daryl gets one pleasing surprise when Beth slips herself under his arm and gives him a squeeze, whispering, "Goodnight, Daryl Dixon," with the ghost of that impish grin he remembers so well, the one that has replayed in this head every day since he lost her, but then she's gone, leaving with Carol and Michonne while he and the others find their way back to their new digs.

Once he's back in his room, he flings himself down on the bed, and remembers Beth's bag, the one he forgot to take with him because he'd been so worried about the clean jeans and t-shirt he'd been given to wear that felt so strange. He's pretty sure it's gonna take him a lot longer to get used to the new-old world than it had the one gone to shit.

He wants to sleep, but he lies there with his brain buzzing and his stomach a bit uncomfortable. Even if he got to talk to Beth alone, he wouldn't know what to say. He wouldn't be able to choke the words out to ask her what had happened to her, and he didn't want to talk about Terminus, not anymore. 

He's made so many deals with the Universe that now he's tempted to just say _thanks_ and quietly slip away from it all. He got what he asked for, Beth alive and well (not necessarily happy, but not totally miserable either), and that was enough.

(It wasn't enough, and he knows it, but he's trying really super fucking hard not to be a greedy bastard.)

He closes his eyes, determined to fall asleep. Nothing happens, but his body relaxes and his mind drifts, and he relives it all for the thousandeth time. Beth, in his face, not taking his shit, standing toe to toe with him, unafraid.

( _It's bullshit!_

 _Is that what you think?_ he'd demanded, total dickhead.

 _That's what I know!_ )

She hadn't been scared of him. He _couldn't_ scare her, hard as he tried. 

His imagination starts to run wild at what could have happened to her when a sharp knock on his door startles him into a sitting position and has him reaching for his crossbow on instinct.

He'd laugh, but he's worried he might not be fit for living indoors anymore.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he stumbles across the room. Maybe they did room checks, or had a _lights out_ rule or something. He jerks open the door and sucks in a breath when the object of his thoughts stands there, looking somewhat small. "Hey," she squeaks out, and Daryl's heart clenches painfully in his chest.

He rests his head against his own hand on the edge of the door, looking down at her with too many emotions swirling through him to even land on one. "Hey," he replies. 

They just stare at each other, and then he pushes the door all the way open so she can slip inside the room. 

 

 

He shuts the door and takes a deep, steadying breath before turning around to face her.

(It doesn't work, because she's still there, and beautiful, and her eyes are _so_ sad that he can feel his throat closing off without any conversation being exchanged between them.)

She doesn't say anything at first anyway, she just sidles back up to him and wraps her arms around him. She tucks her head under his chin, the way she had the day Zach died, and his heart takes off like a fucking locomotive. He knows she must be able to feel it as well as hear it, because it's thundering in his ears, but she just holds on tighter, squeezing herself against him until there is absolutely no doubt in his mind that she's put on close to 20 pounds. She is round in all the right places, and he is very careful about how he puts his hands on her arms, rubbing them downward, and then briskly up. He wants to return her hug, but he doesn't want to get carried away.

And with Beth, he's been so easily carried away, all along.

"I'm so sorry," she says quietly, rubbing her cheek against his chest.

He knows she means Terminus, and he doesn't even try to deny it anymore. The word has been floating in his head right along with all his memories of her, but he avoided landing on it all these months.

How could he not love her, though? She's been hurt, too, but all she cares about is how _he_ got hurt? It's not right, but it feels so damn good, he just can't handle her.

He runs his hands up her shoulders, slipping his fingers under the curtain of her hair to tip her head back. "Don't worry about me," he murmurs, and the tears stand up in her eyes, so quick and bright, he takes another deep breath just to keep his mind from splintering. "They hurt you? Whoever took you that night?"

She nods jerkily, blinking her tears into submission. "But I got away," she says, as if that's what matters. 

And it does. But it also takes all of his self-control to keep his hands on her face gentle; he wants to kill someone, smash everything around him until it stops, until the anger he feels fades.

Beth's hands come up, her fingers wrapping around both of his wrists. Matter-of-factly, she says, "'Member that gun I got off that Walker? It was tucked in the back of my pants, and they never checked me. I waited until most of 'em fell asleep and then I shot 'em all, right in the head."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/americanoutlaw/media/Walking%20Dead/Bethylwedding_zps293b9d43.gif.html)   
> 

_If you came to me empty hearted  
I'd find the pieces to make you whole_

He thinks she's half proud, half ashamed of what she just shared, and the way her lower lip trembles seems to be her making up her mind about it. In the end, she starts crying, like she did that day on the railroad tracks. Deep wracking sobs shake her, and he drags her closer, holds her the way he should have then. 

She clings to him and he finds that her grief mellows his anger. There isn't room for everything all at once, so he just tries to be what she needs. He scoops her up against his chest and moves over to the bed, settling them both down on it awkwardly.

He rubs one hand against the back of her head as her face settles in against the space where his shoulder curves into his neck. Her hair is longer than it was when he last saw her, and she's not wearing it in a ponytail anymore. He wonders about the perpetual braid she always had, and he misses it even while he likes being able to comb his fingers through the silky strands.

He just can't imagine anyone hurting Beth, not because he doesn't know what kind of evil is out there, because obviously he's seen it all, before Walkers and since. But he can't see how anyone who met Beth, or spent five minutes in her presence could ever want to hurt her.

Whoever they were, they're dead now, and they're in hell, he's sure of it. Because anyone who would hurt Beth, that's the only place they could be. 

He holds her harder to his chest and whispers that he's proud of her. Her arms tighten convulsively around his neck, and her breath tickles his throat as her sobs lessen.

Eventually, she relaxes, the tears stop, and she snuggles against him. It's both perfectly comfortable and really fucking weird all at the same time, because even though she's been with him in his head every day of the last six months, they really haven't ever been this way with each other. 

(Well, there was the time they were drunk and she held him while he cried, but, yeah, different.)

It's new, but it's old. She wipes her snotty nose on his shoulder and then apologizes, and Daryl just laughs. "No big deal, got lotsa clean clothes now."

Her answering chuckle is a bit watery, but it eases something in his chest. If she's okay, he'll be okay, too. 

She tips her head back against his shoulder. "Wanna know why I killed them?"

He doesn't even miss a beat. "'Cause they fucking deserved it?" he asks.

She watches him, her gaze drifting across his face gently before focusing on his eyes. "I could hear you, in my head. _I don't think the good ones survive._ _I_ was gonna survive. Or at the very least, I wasn't gonna let that be what got me. Walkers can't help what they are; bad men can. You had every reason in the world to be bad, and you're one of the best people I know. And I knew you woulda killed them. There was three of 'em. I had exactly three bullets." She sighs, dropping his gaze. "Poetic, right?"

Daryl snorts, but he runs his fingers lightly under her chin, caressing her face softly. "You ought to write a ditty about it." 

She straightens up, lifting her head from his shoulder; her cheeks go rosy, which makes no sense to Daryl, but he can't think much on that when she's squirming in his lap, because now is not the time for those other thoughts to press their way through. 

"I'm not one of the best people you know, Beth," he says, both because it's true and because redirecting his focus is all he's got now that they're alone together.

"Bullshit," she bites off. "You got me through this, Daryl Dixon, without even bein' there. Best. Person. Period." One of her fingers presses against his lips when he opens his mouth to argue some more. "Hush."

He does as he's told, if only to make her happy. "See that, over there?" he asks, nodding his head towards the desk across the room.

Beth turns her head and looks where he indicated. "What?" she replies automatically, and then she makes a little gasp and jumps off him and the bed simultaneously. "Is that my _bag_?"

"Yup," he confirms as she picks it up, looking at it with something like wonder. "Still got your spoon in it and everything." He wants to tell her about finding the spoon; about all the crazy thoughts he had about what it meant, and how it gave him hope even when he didn't want it to, and that basically the way she just described him is exactly what she is to him. 

It's all too much, though, he finds. This morning he'd marked her up for a Guardian Angel and tonight, she sneaks into his room and cries all over him and _he is so fucked_.

In the best way possible, but still. His head is spinning.

She opens the bag and starts taking stuff out. She laughs softly as she sets the jar of jelly down on the desk. "That _was_ good jelly," she murmurs, shaking her head. "We were so stupid, y'know. To stay there like we did. I've thought about it a million times. I just wanted it to be a good thing, but it was a trap."

Daryl makes a sound of agreement, but his eyes just trace the curve of her back, the small dip of it leading his gaze to her ass. He can't stop staring at her, all of her--she's new and different than the Beth in his head, but at the same time she feels like the only constant he's had since...maybe ever. (She's definitely the only good constant he's ever had.) When she turns and looks at him over her shoulder, he jerks his eyes northward. "But then I thought about the good things that happened there," she continues. "And even though it was a trap, I wouldn't've traded it. Those hours with you were what made me fight. They still make me fight, every day. I couldn't let you down."

"Beth..."

"Can I sleep here?" she asks suddenly, and Daryl feels his ears go hot. "I just...I haven't _felt_ safe, even though I know I _am_ safe here. I haven't felt it, y'know? And I think if I slept here with you, I'd feel it."

She's looking at him with so much trust, he couldn't say no even if he wanted to, and he doesn't want to, but at the same time, it sort of freaks him the fuck out. "What about Carol?" he asks. "Ain't she gonna wonder where you're at?"

A little smile plays at her lips. "She knows," she replies, and even though that makes his eyebrows go up in shock, Beth is completely unfazed. "I'm a grown woman, Daryl. I can go wherever I want." 

She slides her hand back into the bag and pulls the spoon out before coming back to sit next to him on the bed. "Why'd you keep my bag?" she asks, but her voice is all soft like she already knows the answer.

_What changed your mind?_

He shrugs, but the corners of his mouth twitch up in a slow, involuntary smile. "You know."

Her lips curve in an echo of his. "Yes, I do," she murmurs.

Did he mention, _so fucked_? Because, so, totally, fucked.

 

 

He lays down on the bed, and waits for her to lay beside him. 

He takes a deep breath and then forgets to release it, and it's not until she rests her head against his shoulder that he remembers. 

It couldn't be more innocent, really it couldn't. She rubs her cheek back and forth and mumbles, "Almost as comfy as that coffin, remember?" and he's taken back to an even more innocent moment.

Okay, so this isn't _that_ innocent. At the funeral home, thoughts started, but they were like the smallest sapling bursting up through new ground. Mostly he'd been so puzzled by everything that Beth was, he hadn't been able to make much sense of it beyond the fact that he had found a reason to keep on because of her. Now, he knows, all the parts, because he's had so much time to think on it, and Beth's not stupid. She's not lying next to him for comfort only, but that's all either of them are ready for, and that's okay.

He's gotta be conscious of everything he does, of every move he makes; he's got to show he knows she needs to be handled with care, and that he'll do whatever it takes to make sure she feels safe. He's never wanted to do anything more in his life.

Gently, he reaches for her hand, and slides his fingers through hers. 

And just like that, it's lights out.

 

 

Within a week, Daryl's on the Task Force with Tyreese, Maggie, and Michonne. Rick, because of his previous work being a Sheriff's Deputy, gets a gig as an actual cop, which is a different responsibility than the Task Force. Cops, like always, are meant to enforce the law, while the Task Force does grid sweeps and disposes of Walkers if need be. 

So far, things have been pretty low key, but Daryl finds out that the population count is somewhere around 300,000, which is about half of what it was in the city pre-Apocalypse. Crime is low for the time being, mostly because everyone's just getting used to regular society again.

There are, of course, already people in jail, though, so it's not like they're suddenly living in Paradise.

But, if you asked Daryl, he'd be pretty hard pressed to call it anything else. They haven't found him permanent housing just yet, which is fine with him, because every night Beth comes to his room and they talk and snuggle and sleep (just sleep) and if that's the way life were to go on forever, he thinks he'd be fine with it. They laugh, and whisper about things (like how Rick comes calling at Beth's house for Michonne), and they have these discussions about how regardless of life being less dangerous now, Daryl's not really willing to go anywhere without his crossbow. Beth shows him the knife she wears strapped to her calf, and he gets a bit riled up about it, both because it's under her work pants, which are loose-fitting slacks that she tugs up to expose her leg to him, and because it's _his_ knife, the one she continually stole from him when they were together. She had managed to make it all the way there with it, and she kept it on her body at all times, and well, let's be real, it doesn't take much now.

Just being around Beth, or just thinking about Beth, or just knowing Beth exists is enough to get him going these days.

He feels more alive than he ever has in his life; like every ray of light is brighter, and every peal of laughter is louder, and every moment with Beth is better than the last one because they have so many moments, not living in a constant state of fear.

They go places with their friends, they have picnics outside, and they take walks around national monuments he never thought he'd care to see, but they start to be special to him because of being with her.

And Beth _laughs_. At things he says, at jokes Carl makes, at the funny things Judith does. And her eyes are only shadowed sometimes. Daryl finds that they're always unclouded when she first wakes in the morning, when she blinks sleepily, whispering _hi_ to him like he's the only person she wants to see. She holds his hand proudly and no one even bothers to ask him what's going on, which is good, because he doesn't know what he'd say.

Just, _happy_ , he guesses. 

Except for when he thinks on what she went through too much, but when those thoughts come, it just makes him more determined to treat her kindly. 

Sleeping with her every night adds to his sweet misery. Because it _is_ torture, but he wouldn't change a thing. 

He'll take Beth on whatever terms she wants to offer, without a complaint. She's alive, and well, and happy, and that's all he wanted.

(He can't help but notice how much bigger her smile is when it's pointed at him.)

 

 

He wakes up on a Saturday a few weeks later with her between his legs. She's lying with her head on his upper abdomen, but her body is on top of his, and in his sleep, he'd accommodated her by moving his legs so that she's resting between them.

Which means her chest is over his crotch, and this will be hella awkward when she wakes up.

(Not that they haven't had some awkwardness already, come to think of it, considering they sleep fully clothed. It made sense when they were sleeping outside, when they were on the run, but now they should have progressed to pajamas or something, but no, for the most part Daryl slept in whatever clothes he wore that day, and Beth did too. Yes, he knows they are fucking ridiculous.)

Daryl takes a deep breath and averts his eyes to the ceiling. It doesn't help to see her hair spread out across his chest, and he wills his body to relax. This has been happening a lot more lately (his general excitement, and the low-grade arousal he walks around with most of the time), and his trick has been to remember that Beth's not ready, that she'd been hurt, that he probably wouldn't be very easy with her anyway because the hunger inside him for her is pretty damn strong and the last thing he wants to do is frighten her. It works for the most part, and this morning isn't all that different.

Except for when he feels her shift against him and he lets his gaze move back to her. She lifts her head, gives him her normal sleepy smile, and then she moves forward, climbing up his body in this completely natural but thoroughly surprising way until their lips meet.

As far as first kisses go, Daryl might give it a score of half a million, but it goes from first kiss to second base in a split second. Beth, on top of him, her jean-clad thighs shifting to the outside of his in delicious friction while her hands surround his face and her head angles slightly to the left so that when his mouth opens and his tongue thrusts forward without his conscious thought, he's like a fly caught in a spider's web. His mind races to the fact that he shouldn't be doing this, he shouldn't touch her, not when terrible things have happened to her, but his hands are under the hem of her shirt, her silky skin drawing his fingertips upwards, over her trembling stomach to her breasts, which fill his palms perfectly, and all logical, rational thought just fucking runs for the hills.

She pulls back for a breath, and Daryl whispers her name. She opens her eyes, and they look at each other, and he finds some superhuman strength within himself. Quickly withdrawing his hands from her shirt, he grasps her shoulders firmly, moving her off him so that she's lying beside him. 

What rests on the tip of his tongue are a few phrases like, _are you sure?_ or _is this the right time?_ but the idea of the answers to those questions, either positive or negative, weigh on him with sudden intensity. He's not sure what he wants to hear her say, both possibilities huge responsibilities that matter to him so much, he just can't quite deal with them.

He finds himself shaking his head at her, and then jerkily sitting up and climbing over her to get off the bed. With space between them, he manages to feel like control is a reality.

(It's a fantasy, a fucking fantasy that he has been clinging to for what seems like forever.)

He knows he should say something, but words have never been his strength and they have completely abandoned him now. 

She's just looking at him with those eyes, like she sees everything, which she probably does, and it just rattles him even more. 

"Daryl--"

"I'm gonna go," he interrupts, and he bails. He just turns to the door, jerks it open, and practically runs through it. It slams behind him from the momentum of his own body, but he doesn't look back to see if it opens again. 

He doesn't have anywhere to be, and since he's barefoot, how far can he really get? But he doesn't stop moving until he's out of the dorms and walking gingerly across the parking lot.

He has no idea what he's even doing until he ends up at Glenn and Maggie's door. 

Pummeling his fist against the wood harshly, he waits.

 

 

Glenn comes to the door, his pants on, but no shirt, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Hey, Daryl," he says around a yawn. "What's up?"

"Maggie here?" Daryl asks, walking into their one-bedroom apartment when Glenn gestures for him to come inside.

"Nope, she's working," Glenn shuts the door and then follows Daryl over to the small sofa they have in their living room. "Is everything okay?" he asks, his voice no longer tinged with sleep, but instead filled with concern.

"Yeah, yeah," Daryl says, and then he sits down heavily on the little couch. Glenn and Maggie's other piece of furniture is a folding camping chair, and Glenn settles himself into it as he watches Daryl. "No," Daryl spits. "I don't know. _Fuck_ ," he mutters, dragging his hands through his hair.

"You want me to find out when Maggie has lunch?" Glenn offers.

Daryl shakes his head. "I wanted to talk to _you_ , not Maggie," he says, and his half-formed thoughts finally come together. "I need to know--how did y'all deal with...when Maggie got hurt, y'know? When the Governor...what..." but he can't quite make the words come out.

Glenn looks completely lost; when Daryl realizes his friend doesn't actually know what he's asking, he wonders if talking to Maggie might be a smarter choice. He forces the words out. "When the Governor assaulted Maggie. How did you deal with it?"

Glenn's eyes dart away, and then he looks down at his hands. "Oh, that. Yeah, uh, well. I didn't handle it very well at all; I just sorta filled up with rage, you know, and Maggie had to have space from me. It took us a while to get back to a good place, but we did eventually." Glenn raises his gaze back to Daryl's face. "Maggie wasn't raped, though, Daryl. I mean, he scared her good, and all, but he didn't actually rape her. So, it's probably different with Beth. Is she needing space?"

Daryl shakes his head. He's a moron, and he knows it. Just hearing Glenn say _I didn't handle it very well at all_ , he imagines a poster on a wall with his picture and that caption. "She kissed me this morning, but, like, uh..." He doesn't know why it's so fucking hard to say this. How many times had he teased Glenn and Maggie about their obvious sexual relationship, and now that it's him, he's like a seventh grader.

He just can't be light about it, not about Beth. It means too much.

 _She_ means too much.

"If she's initiating it, go with it," Glenn says. "That's what happened with Maggie. When she was ready, she showed me. I just followed her lead."

"Yeah, okay, I get that, but that was after y'all had been together for a while. Me and Beth never..." He tips his head and gives Glenn a meaningful stare.

"Oh!" Glenn says, his eyes going comically wide in apparent surprise. "Oh, I guess I just thought you hooked up, before, you know, when you were alone." Daryl shakes his head once negatively and Glenn shrugs. "I don't know, then. I mean, you guys are together, obviously. Everyone knows it. That's part of it. That sort of seals the deal, you know?"

And that's it. Daryl stands up, pacing around the postage stamp-sized room while rubbing his hands against his face. He knows that if they go there, cross that line, it will change everything. Not that he'll love her more, or be anymore willing to do whatever he has to for her, but it will just take them to a place that he's never been before.

Maybe Beth loved Jimmy or Zach, he doesn't really know. What it means for him is bigger than all that. It's bigger than anything ever in his life before.

And that scares the shit out of him.

_I ain't afraid of nothing._

Biggest fucking liar ever.

 

 

He says an awkward goodbye to Glenn and walks slowly back to his room, not really ready to face what he's got to face, but feeling full of shame for taking off on Beth in the first place; he goes back to own up to it, to see if she can forgive him. He imagines her getting in his face and calling him on his shit, and he knows he deserves it, and maybe part of him thinks the answers will come easier if they just have it out.

When he gets there, though, she's gone.

He changes his clothes and puts on socks and boots before heading over to her house, but she ain't there either. Carol gives him a puzzled look and says, "I thought she was with you?" to which he doesn't answer, he just asks her to tell Beth he's looking for her if she turns up.

Then he heads all over D.C. looking for her in the places they've most often frequented together, but he comes up empty. He spends all day walking around, hoping, but finally in the late afternoon he gives up and goes home. 

He's had plenty of time now to think about what he'd say, but it all sounds so stupid in his head that he can't help but wonder if any of this is worth it. He knows whatever he could do to hang on to Beth is important, but what he's always thought, even if he tried to forget it for a little while, is that it's not worth nothing for _her_. She might attribute her survival to him, and he might even concede that he helped her some, but in the long run, what does he really have to offer?

He hadn't been able to keep her safe when it mattered most, and now he's not even sure if he can do right by her, largely because he doesn't know what the right thing _is_.

It's just a big fucking mess, and at the heart of him, Daryl will always look for the simplest answer. 

He knows what that is, for Beth. _Get out while you still can._

When he gets back to his room, he pushes open the door slowly and realizes he actually went out without his crossbow; he hadn't even thought about it once, and that was a first.

Maybe the whole thing with Beth is blown, but he might actually be adapting to normal society again.

"Have a seat, Mr. Dixon," Beth says, causing his head to jerk up and he all but screams in fright.

"Holy shit, Beth," he mutters, giving her a look. She's sitting on his bed, but she's pointing at the desk chair across from her. She moved it so it's dead square in the room, exactly in the middle between the desk and the bed. On the floor where Daryl's feet will go when he sits is a shot glass and a bottle of something.

He sits down, eying her warily. "Where'd you get that?" he asks, nodding towards whatever the bottle is.

The funniest thing about a city being rebuilt after utter and total devastation? The liquor stores were some of the first things to get restored, and they were certainly still some of the biggest money makers, at least according to Rick. But the drinking age was still 21, so Beth getting her hands on something wouldn't be super easy.

"I asked Michonne to buy it for me. I told her it was a present for you, so she didn't question it."

Daryl leans down and grabs the bottle. He can't smother the laugh that bubbles up in his chest. "She didn't question that I'd hate Peach Schnapps?"

"I told her it was a private joke."

He realizes then, though Beth isn't smiling, that she's not gonna go gentle on him, and he knows it's the least he's earned.

"Beth--"

"I'll go first," she interrupts. "I never ran out on someone when they were trying to share something super important with me."

She leans down and grabs the shot glass, shoving it towards him. "Drink," she says, her voice hard and unyielding.

He stares at her, but twists the cap off the bottle. She doesn't blink, just narrows her eyes slightly when he hesitates. Finally, he takes the glass from her and pours the shot.

He throws it back, grimacing as it goes down. "Yep," he mutters. "Just as gross as I remember it."

"It's your turn," Beth says.

"This isn't a good idea," he says, trying to ease the tension with a smile. "C'mon, Beth. I'm here, and I'm ready to talk. 'M sorry about--"

"Just play the game, Daryl," she interrupts him again, and his stomach knots up.

He takes a deep breath, his brain scrambling for something, anything that can turn this around for him.

He knows she's here because she cares, because she wants it to be set right, but she's also pissed, which is why she's doing this. He should probably remind her what happens when he gets drunk. 

'Course, she already thinks he's a dick, he can tell by her facial expression.

He's quiet too long, because she says, "Your turn," again, sounding even angrier.

"I never..." and this is why he fucking hates this game, because he can't ever think fast enough to come up with something good, and he feels like whatever comes out of his mouth next better be the goddamn smartest thing he's ever said.

He clears his throat, trying to buy just a sliver of a chance more. And then it hits him.

It's do or die. Now or never. Right or wrong.

Maybe this will make her run, as fast and as far as she oughta.

"I've never..." His grip on the bottle tightens so that the glass squeaks under his fingers. "I've never...had sex...with someone I love."

He raises the bottle to his lips, and Beth's mouth opens, either in shock or to protest him drinking when it's not his turn. He sucks down a large gulp of the awful tasting liquid, and tears spring to his eyes, he hopes because of the alcohol, but maybe it's everything else. "And I'm scared shitless, Beth. God's honest truth. Do with it whatever the hell you want."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! I just love the Bethyl fandom--it's full of enthusiastic, comment-leaving readers and I so appreciate everyone who takes the time to comment. I wanted to mention that this chapter about killed me--I had a certain goal to achieve within it, but Beth and Daryl (esp. Daryl) were very difficult, not taking direction very well. In the end, I'm mostly happy with it, I just wish it had flowed easier so I could just be pleased with it and not be mired in the struggle of it all. I hope it works for all of you. Thanks for the support! The last chapter, hopefully, will not cause me so much turmoil!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/americanoutlaw/media/Walking%20Dead/DarylDixonflirt_zps049aae6a.gif.html)   
> 

_Love is not illusion, love illuminates the blind  
If I finally let you in, would you show me what love is?_

He did not think that through.

And Peach Schnapps, while always at the bottom of his list of things to drink, will forever be something that makes him sick to his stomach.

He leans forward to drop the bottle back down between his feet, his eyes everywhere but on Beth. The room is too fucking small, though, and suddenly he can't breathe; he knows if he walks out again it's the end, but damn him to hell, because it's the only thing he can wrap his brain around. The muscles in his legs twitch with wanting to get up and go.

"Daryl..." she says, her voice soft in a way that injures him with its pity. He squeezes his eyes shut and wishes the floor would just open up and swallow him whole. "Baby," she murmurs, and then she's kneeling in front of him, her hands surrounding his wrists. She eases her body under his so that when he opens his eyes he has no choice but to look at her. "You love me?" she asks. She actually sounds surprised, which makes no fucking sense to Daryl because how could she not know?

Tears well up and then trickle down her cheeks, and this little smile that about breaks his heart with its purity cracks her face. "I love you," she whispers. "So much. Daryl." She clears her throat and blinks the tears away. "I love you, too. I love you--"

He's not sure if he moves first, or Beth does, all he knows is that her lips are on his and her hands grab on to his hair. Their teeth knock together as she pushes against him, and then she's straddling him on the chair. Daryl should do anything but grab her ass, but that seems like the only logical thing _to_ do.

He pulls her down into him and she moans, and even if he could remember Glenn's advice at this point, instinct is all he's got left. She kisses him hard, her tongue moving into his mouth more dominantly than he can process and she rubs against him wantonly. 

Like, if she doesn't stop, he's gonna come in his jeans. That's not what he wants, but he can't fucking control it, it's just this explosion of everything between them.

She pulls back from the kiss to drag her own shirt off over her head, tossing it aside; that's enough to slow him down some, because there is all this white skin, and a lacy baby blue bra covering up the most beautiful part, the luscious part he'd held in his hands for like five seconds that morning. "Beth," he pants, and her gaze meets his. "Wait--" She puts four fingers over his mouth and shakes her head, her eyes giving him a warning that he'd be fucking stupid not to heed.

He can't not say it, though, he has to be sure, be _clear_ with her. "I don't wanna hurt you," he mutters, yanking his hands from her backside to cup her face gently. "Or scare you. You been through bad stuff, and I'm--I'm like fuckin' nuts here, listen, _feel_." He grabs one of her hands and presses it to his chest where his heart pounds like it's trying to get out of his body. "I don't wanna..."

"You won't," she says, her breathless voice fuel to his already nearly out of control fire. "Daryl, seriously. You've been acting like I'm made of glass this whole time. And I'm not, remember? I made it. I survived. I'm here. And I trust you. When I'm with you nothin' can hurt me. _Nothin'._ Especially not you." She leans forward, fighting against his remaining hand so she can press her lips to his. She gently nips at his bottom lip and Daryl chokes on a groan. "Please," she whimpers, straining against him. "I wanna be with you."

He closes his eyes again, and takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. A whole lotta swear words traipse through his mind, stuttering against the back of his gritted teeth. The fingers of the hand he's got pressed to his chest lace through his. She curls their hands together, and her eyes drop down, lingering on where they're touching. She whispers, "See. Like that. I wanna be with you, like that." Her eyes come back to his for a short moment, then drop to his mouth, and Daryl has never been this turned on in his life.

Every nerve ending is electrified by her touch and the feel of her eyes, which is just as physical as her actual hands on him.

She reaches between them, pulling the buttons of his shirt open, the snaps coming apart appallingly easily, as if the piece of clothing is as desperate as he is. Her hands drift down to the waistband of his jeans, and his abdomen quivers under her skimming fingers. Then she pulls his pants open and there's nothing he can do about the way his eager flesh erupts from behind the zipper as she lowers it.

Beth cradles him in her hands as she pushes his briefs out of the way, a small, satisfied giggle bursting from her throat. "Oh, Daryl..." she breathes, and it's not pity. It's like awe or something, and he closes his eyes because if he watches as she fondles him, it will be game over.

He's about to say her name, to say anything that will communicate how dire this situation is, but then her mouth is against his again. Her hands caress and squeeze, and it suddenly hits him that maybe all he needs to do is just let her have free reign, let her touch him and do whatever she wants. If she controls it, there's no chance he can hurt or scare her.

And so fucking what if he comes like a 12-year-old having a wet dream? He'll be hard again in no time because Beth is... _Beth_. And she loves him. And she wants him. And she feels strong because of him, even though he didn't really do anything.

Her kisses taste like toothpaste (not Peach Schnapps) and he gets a little distracted by that realization. She pulls back, dragging their lips apart. He blinks at her as she stands up, and a sad little moan escapes his mouth when she takes her hands off him. 

She keeps her eyes on his as she unbuttons and unzips her jeans, though, and the thumping of his heart gets stronger, literally causing his cock to jump as she pushes her pants and underwear down. She twists an arm behind her to unhook her bra (which, what the hell were his hands doing when he could have been doing that? The fuck?), and his eyes fall to her breasts. There is no other choice, he couldn't look elsewhere even if someone had a gun to his head.

She's beautiful. He always knew that, but this is different; the way her body is exposed to him, the way it's flushed with wanting, the tips of her breasts berry-red and pointed, and the dark blonde curls between her legs damp. He can see and smell her arousal, and it's all because of him, _for_ him, and abruptly all the things she's tried to tell him all along knock him upside the head.

He suddenly believes all of it, gets it in a way he didn't before. If she'd never wanted to be this way with him, it wouldn't have changed anything about how he feels about her, but it makes sense like it never could before. She could be hurt, and go through the worst thing a woman could experience, and still want him, still be wet for him, still _need_ him in this primal way that there are no words for.

Because she loves him. And even though she didn't really understand it, because he loves her.

Here, they are both safe.

"Beth," he says, her name the only truth he's ever really known. He lifts his arms, reaching out for her, sliding his hands down her sides, to her jutting hip bones. He pulls her forward, gently, and she comes gladly, the tremulous smile on her face at once calming and riotous.

She will forever be the dichotomy of his life; the thing that centers him and the thing that spins him sideways.

She climbs back on his lap, and their hands collide at his cock, attempting to position him for her body. "You sure?" he manages to choke out, even as the heat of her teases his foreskin and his tip feels unbearably swollen.

She strangles out a laugh, and confesses on a panting breath, "This mornin', I just wanted to make out. But now? Yeah, Daryl. I'm sure. I've never been more sure of anything, ever." She bears down on him a little, and he sucks in a breath as he watches her body swallow his. "Don't be scared," she whispers.

It's slow, so slow, and he can feel every creamy inch of her. It's the best feeling and the worst, a pain so pleasurable, all he can do is grab her head and bring her mouth back to his so he's got something else to focus on. She finishes joining their bodies, and then doesn't move; her hands come up and surround his face, her thumbs brushing against his cheekbones and down into the soft hair of his beard. 

Her hands are gentle, full of love, every touch and caress a direct hit to his heart. The kiss ends naturally so that their eyes open and they're looking at one another. Hers shine with tears again, but it doesn't terrify Daryl the way he woulda thought had he seen them twenty minutes ago. "You okay?" he whispers, and she nods.

Eagerly, happily, joyously.

"I love you," she says, her tone dripping with it. She could have said any other words and he would still have known what she meant.

Daryl slides his hands under her bare ass, shifting her just enough that they both make involuntary sounds. " _I_ love _you_ ," he replies. Instead of the fear that made him run before, he feels free.

This is what it is, to belong to someone, and for someone to belong to him, and only him.

Beth keeps her eyes open the whole time she rides him. When she comes, he is right there with her, in every way.

 

 

She starts giggling after their pulses have returned to normal. When Daryl says, "What?" she tugs at his shirt, indicating that it's hilarious for some reason that she's buck naked but he's still got his clothes on.

(Maybe it is funny, because the grin on his face is completely involuntary.)

She climbs off his lap and leans down to yank his boots and socks off. He stands up when she motions for him to, and he lets her undress him because, let's face it, he'll let her do whatever she wants. 

At this moment, there is nothing Beth Greene could ask of him that he would deny her. He keeps her from just stripping him naked by pulling her against him and kissing her some more. Her hands are busy, but they slow down and lose their purpose when he strokes his tongue over hers. When his hands wander up her back and slide around her ribcage to cup her breasts, she arches into his palms.

She says his name like she's annoyed, but he knows she's not because she kisses him back fervently, and all but climbs him like a tree after she's finally got his jeans down around his ankles. Her arms coil around his neck and she jumps up so that her legs are on either side of his hips. He catches her easily, his hands grasping her bottom, squeezing the delicious flesh between his fingers. She keeps kissing him, so he slides one hand down slightly. Running his thumb along her moist folds, he arrows in on the hot little button at the top of her sex. She arches against him some more, moaning his name so that his cock starts twitching, and he feels like a much younger man suddenly.

(The effect he suspected she'd have on him. Beth, the magic woman that she is.)

He kicks his jeans aside and lowers them both to the bed, propping Beth's head up on his pillows. He's still very conscious of the fact that even though she seemed to enjoy what they just did just fine, she might be more delicate than she thinks she is.

But when their eyes meet, her smile's bigger than any he's seen on her face since he got to Washington. She looks a bit smug and arrogant, and he doesn't even care that it must be because he seems whipped.

(He _is_ whipped, obviously.)

Her hands stroke up and down his back, and her grin lessens as her fingers find and trace the scars there. He watches as her mind spins, figuring out just what she's feeling, and she asks softly, "Who did that to you?"

Somehow, even that can't ruin this, or maybe it's just Beth's magic hands. Maybe those scars finally can't hurt him anymore. "My daddy," he murmurs, leaning down to lay a kiss across her mouth. 

"He was a bastard, wasn't he?" she asks.

Daryl nods. "The worst kind."

"I'm sorry," she croons, sliding her hands up his back to his neck. She tucks her fingers into his hair, holding his mouth against hers. He doesn't even get a chance to shrug off her kindness because she pulls his bottom lip into her mouth. She gives it a light suck, and Daryl is fully functional again, which she feels instantly since he's resting between her legs. She makes a little gasping sound, and then giggles again. Daryl never knew someone could laugh so much in bed. If it were anyone but Beth, he might get a complex. 

"We probably shouldn't do this again," she mumbles, her cheeks flushing, and Daryl tenses up. "Without, y'know, a condom...or something. Kinda stupid of us," she says, her shoulders lifting up.

He has a quick flash of Beth with Little Asskicker in her arms, and it morphs suddenly into a different baby...a _new_ baby, _his_ baby. He jerks back from her some.

Yeah, he's not gonna say anything about that, not today. (Or possibly ever.)

"'M sorry," he says. "I totally, just lost my fuckin' mind--"

She touches a finger to his mouth. "Takes two to Tango, baby. I'm just sayin'...I wanna do it some more, but I don't have anything..."

Daryl doesn't either. It's not like he's got game up in here, or that it had even occurred to him that they would actually ever do this, at least not any time soon, and certainly not today.

At the same time, the idea of putting his clothes back on to go buy condoms when he and Beth are already naked is the last thing he wants to do.

He flattens his hands down on the mattress on either side of her head to push himself up, then he scoots down her body, dropping his head forward to draw her nipples, one by one, into his mouth. She arches under him, and her nails dig into his scalp as he strums her sensitive flesh with his tongue. "Daryl!" she cries, sounding confused and aroused at the same time.

"How 'bout," he says, lifting his head and sliding further down her body, "we do stuff we don't need rubbers for? And we'll go get some tomorrow?"

Beth reaches up to push the pillows more securely under her head, which, he realizes, gives her a great view down her body to his chosen destination. "Um..." she hedges, rolling her bottom lip into her mouth for her teeth to worry.

Daryl slides his hands under her ass, lifts her up to his mouth, and slips his tongue right down her center before flicking back upward to her clitoris. Her fingers tighten again and she jumps and moans. "Maybe y'don't know people do this, but they do," he whispers before blowing gently where his tongue had just been.

"Daryl!" she cries again, the word sounding delicious but unintended. He waits, giving her the chance to tell him to back off if that's what she wants. Her chest is heaving, her nipples shiny from his mouth and flushed with color all over again. He's pretty sure she doesn't want him to stop. "I know about oral sex...I just..." She trails off, her eyes meeting his forcefully.

"Don't wanna?" he asks, smirking at her.

"No! I mean, yes! I do, wanna. I just...are you sure we shouldn't have condoms? I mean, you said you feel--" she whispers the word, " _fuckin'_ " and he can't fight the grin on his face, "nuts, and I do, too. So, will we really--I mean, can either of us be trusted to make good decisions...?"

Now Daryl laughs, long and low. "Oh, Greene," he mutters, shaking his head. "Good decisions are fuckin' gone with the wind."

He leans back down to kiss between her thighs, and she stops talking. The only sounds she makes for the next fifteen minutes cause Daryl to blow his load without her even touching him.

_Gone with the fuckin' wind._

 

 

(They run into Glenn and Maggie at the pharmacy near their house the next morning. Glenn gives Daryl a high five while the Greene sisters stand a ways off gossiping.)

 

 

Three days later, following a hard and fast session against the wall in Beth's room after Daryl gets off work, Beth whispers in his ear, "We need to talk."

He tries not to let it freak him out, especially since she's naked and wrapped around him when she says it, but he can't quite stop himself from going there. He knows she loves him, but the other shoe has got to drop at some point. He's in love; he's not delusional.

The thing is, as Beth leads him to her bed, she's still smiling. She manages to look shy with her bra hanging off one shoulder (all that remains of her clothes because he's a champ at getting most of them off, and quickly), and he starts to relax.

(Well, as much as he can when he's in a room with a naked Beth.)

"Two things," she says, dropping her bra to the floor. "I talked to Carol, who told me, by the way, that she invited you to live here the day y'all got here--" She arches a brow at him like he's a bit slow or something. "And she's fine with you living here-- _with me_. So, I want y'to know that I'd like that, if you wanted to move in. It'll save Housing the trouble of finding you your own place, but if you want your own place, I'll try to remember that I don't have to rush this, just because I'm living in one of the small corners of the world that's not overrun by Walkers at the moment, and it's a miracle that we survived and both ended up here, and that love like this is--"

Daryl stops her rambling words with a kiss, feeling something like an adrenaline rush that Beth Greene gets as worked up about him as he does about her. "I'll move in," he says against her lips, because she's already forgotten their 'bad decisions' conversation, but he hasn't.

"Really?" she asks with a little squeak, and when he nods, she full-on squeals and throws her arms around his neck, knocking him over. Once she's looking down into his face, sprawled across his chest, he brushes her hair back behind her ear. "I love you," she says, smacking an enthusiastic kiss against his chin.

"What's two?" he asks, still a tad worried.

She blushes bright red, and ducks her head a little, dropping his gaze, but since she's on top of him, there's nowhere for her to go, really. "What?" he asks, chuckling.

"I went to the doctor today, to get on birth control," she says, her eyes still skittering away from his.

"Okaaaay," he says, not sure why that's so embarrassing, or necessary for that matter, as they've used a rubber every time since the first.

She buries her face in his throat and mumbles something he can't quite make out. He catches _don't_ and _good_ and that's about it. He cups his hand around the back of her head, pulling gently. "I can't hear you," he says. "Whisper it to me," he says, in a near-whisper of his own.

Beth moves up slightly and puts her lips to his ear. _I don't wanna use condoms 'cause it doesn't feel as good._

Daryl bursts into laughter. Saying that sex with Beth doesn't feel as good with a rubber as it did without is like saying tracking five animals for supper isn't as good as tracking ten. 

'Cause, sure, there's bareback sex, and then there's the privilege of being inside Beth Greene, and what's he gonna do? Fucking complain? 'Course not. But, beings as this is her idea?

Well, funny as fuck, that's what.

Some day, he'll explain the difference between someone who's cut and someone who's not, and why she likes him bare better, but for right now, her education isn't his priority. Her modesty, in its ridiculousness (ridiculous cuteness), is.

(Daryl only knows because Merle was a dirty sonofabitch who loved to talk about shit like that. Turns out, it was the one thing he was right about.)

She beats her fist against his shoulder and whines, "Stop it!" but he can't contain his laughter.

When he finally gets himself under control, he rolls them so she's beneath him. "I love you," he murmurs.

She beams, bright and true, her blush receding.

"How long?" he asks. "Till it kicks in?" At her puzzled look, he expounds. "The pills? They aren't working immediately, right?"

"Oh, right! Yeah, I'm picking up my prescription tomorrow, and about a week after that it should be good. Unless I have side effects. Maggie told me what kind she used when she was younger, so I'm trying that first."

Daryl shakes his head, but grins. "Damn liquor stores, and sex stuff. It's the end of the world, but here's what people care about."

Beth rolls her eyes. "I know, right? I don't know why anyone would keep making Peach Schnapps. That stuff is gross!"

Daryl just tries to accept that being this happy is normal.

Maybe someday, it will make sense.

 

 

The day he moves in, he gives her the Collector's Spoon inside a glass case (he'd had to hunt in her bedroom for it one night while she was sleeping so he could surprise her). It'll be preserved this way, like the first of new family heirlooms, not that the Dixon family ever had heirlooms before, but y'know, whatever. Hanging it on the wall where they can always see it will let them remember often how they found each other again.

Beth cries a little as Daryl taps a nail into the wall and then stands back to critically eye its centeredness after it's hung up.

He wraps his arm around her neck, pulling her into his side as he comes to stand beside her.

"You were right, you know," he says sagely.

Beth sniffs, glancing up at him. "'Bout what?"

"I missed you, when you were gone."

She looks back at their trinket on the wall. "Of course you did. But I missed you more."

For a split second, Daryl sees the truth of it. And for once, he doesn't argue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my plan since I posted chapter four was to ask y'all for some Bethyl prompts, because I didn't really have any other stories at the back of my mind as I was going into the final leg of this one. I even talked with a few of you last chapter about possible prompts, and then one reader and I got to chatting more in-depth about stuff and she graciously looked over this final chapter prior to my publishing it. When she gave me feedback it stirred a couple of thoughts that I'd had all along, in that some of Beth's reactions in this story are not explored simply because I chose to write from Daryl's POV. I expected to reveal certain things about Beth, but those things just didn't cohesively go with what I wrote, so I decided to let it all go. Then my beta said something to me about the plausibility of birth control pills being available in this world, and I started to think about how fully realized this world is to me, IN MY BRAIN, but how many of those details just couldn't be expressed from Daryl's POV. Long story long, I am going to keep writing in this universe, with a new story from Beth's POV. It will cover how she felt when she was separated from Daryl, how she's felt since being reunited, and then carry the plot forward from where it ends here. I decided this just today as I was driving home from work, for two reasons: 1) I'm not ready to say goodbye to them just yet, and 2) this way I can figure out a way to convey what was going on in Beth's head without awkwardly shoe-horning it into Daryl's story. So, keep your eyes peeled for a new story called "Holding On." Because it's coming.
> 
> Also, if there's anything particular you wondered about Beth during this story, now would be a good time to ask. If it works with what I've got planned, I'll see if I can answer all of them in the story; if not, I'll still answer them, down the line!
> 
> Once again, thanks for all the love on this story; it's been a pleasure to write, and I blame Daryl, Beth, myself and my beta for the fact that it's not quite over yet. ;-)


End file.
